


Mutual Curiosity

by ThisShallNeverBeMentioned



Series: Hands Like Waves Over Me [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fins Universe, M/M, Mer!Michael, Mythical creature smut, PWP, Sexual exploration, basically merporn and bjs, different anatomy, mermaid!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned/pseuds/ThisShallNeverBeMentioned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been mutual curiosity, mostly, that led them here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

They’re sitting on the beach, in a little alcove amidst rock pools and the cliff faces that Michael prefers to stay in when he comes to shore, just enough under the overhang of rock to not be seen, to be sheltered from the hot midday sun.

Michael has his tail hanging over into one of the closer pools of seawater gathered amongst the rocks and sand, every now and then moving to cup some water in his hands and pour it over the top half of his tail. He’d explained to Gavin a while ago how his tail drying out felt like an extreme form of dehydration, and if left too long could lead to his scales flaking off, and that wasn’t at all pleasant.

He stretches out on the sand, kicking off his shoes, and watches Michael tend to his tail lazily. Gavin didn’t think he’d ever stop finding Michael’s tail interesting, from the way his scales shifted colour in the sun to the unpredictable way his fins would flutter open and closed, never still. And the way that Michael’s almost-human skin transformed so smoothly into the rougher skin of his tail. The more he looked, the more he notices how covered in scales Michael’s skin is, rising up from orange tinged flesh into freckle-like bumps that shone in yellows and oranges. The scales clustered thicker on his shoulders and elbows, dusted over his cheeks up to meet his earfins, and decorated the line of his spine and from his navel down to his tail.

He rolls closer without fully meaning to, just wanting to get a closer look as Michael had let him various times before. Usually it was for something specific, to examine the membranes between his fingers or to look closer at the flat and grooves of his flukes, and Michael was… relatively patient, as long as he could examine Gavin in return. Usually his clothes or his toes or his inordinate amount of body hair. The only hair Michael had was on his head, and that in itself was stronger and more wiry than Gavin’s.

Now, Michael just glances at him, eyebrow raised, and when he recognizes the curious expression on Gavin’s face he sighs. He dunks one last handful of water over his tail, and then heaves it out of the rock pool onto the sand, turning to Gavin with an expectant expression.

“What is it this time?” he asks, and Gavin sits up with a slightly sheepish grin.

“Scales.” He mumbles, already reaching out to poke one finger at Michael’s shoulder.

Michael sighs again, and lets his hands rest by his sides. “Fine, go ahead. Just don’t pick at them.” He warns when Gavin starts forward eagerly.

“I know.” Gavin affirms, and lightly runs his fingers over Michael’s shoulders, following the smooth bumps of the scales.

He doesn’t think Michael would take it well if he jumped straight to the scales he was more interested in, dotting along his hips and overlapping into his tail, so he tries to stay focused on the shoulders, if only for a few minutes, though his gaze keeps drifting.

Before long, Gavin throws caution to the winds and shifts, tucking his feet under him, and letting his hands move down from Michael’s shoulders to his elbows, briefly running over the scales there before crossing to splay his fingers over Michael’s stomach.

Michael sucks in a startled breath, the muscles beneath Gavin’s hands jumping, and then he relaxes again, leans back on his arms with an exasperated laugh, muttering something that sounds like, “Should’ve known.”

Gavin hides his smile, keeping his eyes on his hands as they follow the scales across Michael’s skin, feel the way it becomes rougher and then smoother as the scales begin to overlap each other. They become redder the closer they get to the tail, and he notices for the first time that they almost followed patterns, the lines of Michael’s hipbones carried on in faint ridges along his tail, tapering into a V before smoothing out into the stock of the tail.

Fingers bury themselves into his hair, slightly too sharp claws scratching lightly at his scalp, and Gavin leans his head into the touch. His hair seems to be the most fascinating thing about him to Michael – he had thought it had something to do with the way it stuck up so easily, with or without gel, while Michael’s always fell heavily about his face, even though it curled up at the ends. Michael simply tells him it was because he’d never felt anything so _fluffy_ before.

His hands had stopped moving briefly, at the touch of Michael’s fingers, but now he focuses back on the scales, and those hipbone ridges. Pressing his hands flat to Michael’s skin, he moves them down, following the lines down that V and back up again, taking in the give of flesh around the ridges.

He startles when Michael’s fingers suddenly tighten in his hair, tail twitching under his hands, an aborted motion that would usually lead to Michael flicking him in the back of his head with his flukes, but when he glances warily over his shoulder the tail fins are still in the sand, only shifting back and forth sporadically.

Gavin looks back at Michael, apologetic, and hastily removes his hands from Michael’s tail.

“Sorry, did I- did I do something wrong, there?” he asks carefully.

Michael’s eyebrows are drawn together as he looks back at Gavin, his face slightly red as it tends to go whenever he’s angry, but after a few long moments, he shakes his head, and gently smoothes Gavin’s hair down where he’d rucked it up with his claws.

He looks down, and then up again, and his earfins flick down and up once agitatedly.

“It’s…” he starts, and swallows roughly. “It’s fine, Gavin, you can-” Michael gestures to his tail again, and Gavin curiously watches his face flush brighter. “Again. If you want to.”

That’s… unexpected. Normally, if Gavin pushes a boundary that Michael doesn't want pushed he gets a cuff around the head and has to apologise several more times before Michael stops glaring and forgives him. Now, he’s essentially being given free reign.

Hesitantly, Gavin moves his hands to hover over Michael’s hips, searches his face for any other sign, and then lets his hands press to the warm scaled skin.

Michael lets out a breath in a huff, and Gavin drops his gaze. He lightly traces over the hipbone ridges once more, and then kneads the flesh, watching that same reddish flush appear across Michael’s stomach, showing off the yellow scales in a more visible relief. Absently, he notices that Michael’s tail is twitching again, little jerking motions in time with Michael’s breathing. Gavin’s fingers cross to Michael’s stomach, and drag down the dip between the ridges, the scales smooth and warm and-

He freezes.

Okay, that was new.

Michael’s so still that Gavin wonders if he’s holding his breath, and he feels like he’s holding his own as he slowly runs his fingers over the bulge of raised flesh on Michael’s tail that _definitely was not there before_.

Like the ridges that run from Michael’s hipbones, but there’s more give to it, and the skin is much hotter here, hotter and raised and still _swelling_.

The noise Michael makes sends shivers down Gavin’s spine, something like a moan but with a deeper whine to it, and Gavin feels dazed, his eyes wide and stinging from refusing to blink and miss this. Refusing to miss the way Michael’s skin goes red and his tail curls and the flesh between the ridges gives way to the pink skin beneath, usually so perfectly hidden, the curling tip of something almost familiar and yet vastly different peeking out from it’s sheath.

It’s… soft, almost silken when he ever so lightly puts his hand to it, warm and wet and pressing between the gaps in his fingers, covering his hand in the slick, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried, couldn’t bear to.

Michael lets out another whining noise, and Gavin moves automatically, free hand going to haul Michael’s tail to rest over his thighs, holding him there and running his hand over the scales soothingly. He lets his other hand curl gently around the bulge, pulling upwards as he’d normally do with- well. It seems to have the same effect, anyway, the _appendage_ seeming to swell in size and the scaled sheath widening enough for the rest of it to press out, exposed to the air, all pink and shiny.

There’s more independent movement to it, that’s for sure, given the way it seems obsessed with curling and pushing between Gavin’s fingers, and he lets it, moving his hand up and down and feeling Michael’s tail twitch upwards, trying to follow the motion.

Gavin glances up at Michael, still moving his hand, and takes in his flushed face and half-closed eyes, glued to Gavin’s hand, Michael’s own pressed over his mouth while his other arm shakes with the effort of keeping him propped upright. When Gavin squeezes softly, Michael bites out a curse behind his palm, eyes flicking up to meet Gavin’s, pupils blown wide and dark enough to cover the usual golden-yellow of his irises.

And Gavin doesn’t know what possesses him, what thought overrides his mind, overrides any bit of logic from _this is completely new and should probably not even be happening_ to _his gag reflex is notoriously awful this is not going to be possible_ and all he can focus on is the warmth in his hand and weight in his lap and the way Michael is _looking_ at him.

He leans over Michael’s tail, having to shuffle back slightly to reach, and moves his hand down to the base till it’s resting against the scaled skin, grip tight and steadying as much as he can before he bends over and closes his mouth over the tip.

Or, he tries to at least, but the thing is moving about so much that he misses the first time. But then the next second it’s curling back and pressing along Gavin’s parted lips and up into his mouth, and it’s like he’s swallowed a cap of soy sauce when the slick spreads across his tongue, tangy and salty and overwhelming. He doesn’t gag, surprisingly, and it’s almost like kissing with tongues, because the appendage moves and curls around inside his mouth, never going too far in, and more of the slick mixes and gathers with his saliva so that he has to swallow every few seconds to stop it leaking out of his mouth.

Michael’s whining and cursing, strange clicks and chirrups mixed in with English and his native tongue, and his tail a heavy and hot weight across Gavin’s legs. Gavin loses himself to the taste and the movement, kissing and sucking and squeezing his hand around the squirming muscle, and when Michael comes it’s with a screeching cry and several long pulses of wet and hot spilling over his tongue and across his mouth when he pulls back, gasping.

He swallows without thinking, and gasps again, his eyes watering at the taste, saltier and _hotter_ of all things, and he hysterically thinks that Michael must be like a sushi buffet in just about every way when his _come_ reminds him of wasabi and soy sauce.

Michael twitches in his grip, his chest heaving as he draws in breath, and the pink muscle is curling out of his grasp, shrinking and withdrawing back into it’s sheath. Within another minute it’s almost impossible to see where it was, if not for the remnants of slick and the red flush to the skin.

Gavin licks his lips absentmindedly, looking up at Michael, now lying in the sand completely but for his tail still over Gavin’s lap, looking up at the rocky overhand above them. He’s panting and the flush in his cheeks is only just starting to fade, his eyes still dark when he looks up at Gavin. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” he says, a little breathlessly.

Gavin swallows again, a grin creeping onto his face, and he runs the palms of his hands over Michael’s tail and sides, ticklish and light, but steers clear of his more sensitive skin.

“It was… an experience.” He agrees, and laughs when Michael swats his arm half-heartedly. “You know you taste like seafood?”

The flash of outrage and exasperation that crosses Michael’s face at that has him laughing again, and after a minute Michael chuckles too.

“Yeah, well, anytime you wanna do it again, let me know.” Michael rolls his eyes, stretching his arms over his head, still splayed out over Gavin and the beach.

Gavin hums, stroking over Michael’s scales, and smiles, listening to the lap of waves on the rocks and wondering at the lingering flavour in his mouth. “You know what, I think I will.”

 

 

* * *

 

_The drawing that is a companion piece to this story is[here](http://fullunadulteratedbad.tumblr.com/post/131586785357/fullunadulteratedart-well-you-asked-for-it) uwu_

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Gavin hisses in a breath and hastily squeezes Michael’s shoulders, patting at him until he looks up, somehow managing to look annoyed even through his flushed cheeks.

“What, Gavin?” he asks, and when his fingers tighten Gavin has to bite the inside of his cheek to not make a noise.

“Just… just not so, uh, less claws, please.” Gavin stumbles over the words, feeling unfairly self-conscious despite the fact that Michael would have little to nothing to compare him to, that they’re already so different, that the last thing he’d be doing is _judging_.

Still, Gavin can’t help feeling a little exposed with his jeans and underwear crumpled on the picnic blanket beside him and his legs spread wide, held apart by Michael’s claw-tipped hands, and Michael himself resting basically level with his-

“Relax, Gavin, honestly,” Michael rolls his eyes, but he does lift his fingers off Gavin’s thighs a bit, so the claws aren’t touching him anymore. “It’s not like I’m gonna gut you and eat you.”

A laugh startles out of Gavin at that, and he shakes his head at Michael’s confused frown, smoothing his hands over scaled shoulders.

He’d never expected it, when he’d come down with a bag full of food for Michael to try at lunchtime, spreading out a blanket like a picnic at the beach. It had been fun introducing Michael to the different types of food, watching him take apart his burger to eat in pieces, seeming to favour the pickles and ham slices and the bread bun more than the tomato and lettuce, which he’d turned his nose up at.

Then there’d been several types of soft drink for him to try - he’d spluttered at the carbonated bubbles that had fizzed in his nose – and hard-boiled sweets that he’d crunched through with his sharp teeth while Gavin winced. He’d hurriedly given Michael a choice of chocolate or crisps or other sweets to follow, and Michael had turned to him with a calculating expression and said quite simply, “I’ll try you.”

Michael’s palms slide up Gavin’s thighs, and he deliberately lets his claws drag along the skin to get his attention. “Can I get on with it, now?” Michael drawls, tilting his head and looking down between Gavin’s legs with an expression that really should not be as hot as it is.

Gavin swallows, his throat clicking, and nods once, sharply, his hands curling into fists where they rest on Michael’s shoulders, gaze flicking between watching Michael’s face intently and staring at his tail lazily flopping in the sand.

One hand reaches the line that runs along where his leg joins his hip, petting curiously at the fuzzy hair that covers most of Gavin’s front, claws thankfully completely tucked away when his fingers reach the base of Gavin’s cock. They trace around it curiously, and there’s a furrow on Michael’s brow when he touches the skin that leads down to Gavin’s balls, clearly confused about the lack of any sort of sheath.

“And it just hangs out all the time?” he asks curiously, fingers probing and Gavin has to take a deep breath to answer calmly, or as calmly as he can when Michael’s breathing on him.

“Yeah, it does.” He says, and bites down on his bottom lips when Michael’s fingers wrap around him, just holding. “It’s not… not always hard, though.”

Michael makes a considering noise, eyes fixated on Gavin, and his other hand comes up to prod at the scar running along one side of his sac. “This?” he asks quietly.

“Operation.” Gavin breathes back. “Weird story. Bit sensitive.” He’s reduced himself to short sentences to cover the sparks of heat and sensation arcing out from Michael’s hands on him. Michael doesn’t seem to notice, or he’s just more intrigued with exploring.

Then the hand on his cock squeezes and slides up, and its all Gavin can do to breath and close his eyes and not make a noise. He can feel himself twitching in Michael’s grasp, can feel the curious gaze on him as surely as if he’s being burnt with it, and Michael’s fingers trace the head and the slit, rubbing at the precome that starts leaking out.

He manages to fight the urge to buck up long enough to open his eyes just in time to see Michael poke his tongue out and lick at the slit. Gavin chokes when Michael does it again, pressing harder, tongue curling in a way that makes Gavin think that it must be much more flexible than his own. Maybe lacking in the web of skin that joins the underside of the tongue to the floor of the mouth.

Michael pulls back enough to look up and meet Gavin’s gaze, eyebrows raised in surprise, and he opens his mouth. “It’s… salty.” He says, and he sounds so astonished. “I didn’t think it would be-” and then he seems to take note of the way Gavin’s still biting down on his bottom lip, and a wicked grin creeps over his face.

He leans down again, still watching Gavin, and pokes his tongue out before swiping it torturously slowly over the head of Gavin’s cock.

A groan escapes Gavin’s throat without him meaning it to, his chin drops to his chest, and Michael lets out a low chuckle at that, before he tightens his grip and starts lapping at Gavin’s slit. His tongue moves flicker fast, and Gavin’s struggling to breath, and then he really can’t breath when Michael pulls back for a second before opening his mouth and closing his lips around Gavin’s cock.

Michael has _no_ gag reflex, that much is clear, as he sinks down, down, and Gavin’s drowning in glorious heat and pressure and Michael’s nose brushes the hair at the base before he _swallows_ and Gavin comes apart with his hips twitching and a strangled groan.

And he just keeps swallowing, his throat convulsing around Gavin’s oversensitive cock until he’s sure he’s going to pass out and he weakly scrabbles at Michael’s shoulders, calling his name desperately. Michael swallows once more, and then slowly slides up and off with a wet pop, licking once more at the head before settling back with an all too contented sigh, looking like the cat that got the cream.

He grins pointily up at Gavin – how he didn’t feel anything of Michael’s scarily sharp teeth during all that he doesn’t know - and rubs his hand across his fuzzy stomach playfully.

“So.” He says, tilting his head to one side. “Good?”

Gavin has to laugh, even while he’s still catching his breath, and pushes his hair back off his forehead. “Definitely.” He smiles, and then adds cheekily. “Though I think I should be asking you that, seeing how this was meant to be for you to try new things.”

Michael smiles at that, and casually wraps his fingers around Gavin’s softened cock, which jumps and fills a little again at the touch. “Yeah, it was good. Although,” he smirks at Gavin’s gasp when he licks at him. “Wouldn’t say no to seconds.”

 

 


End file.
